2023, sic parvis magna and goodbye!

With the new year approaching, all traditions destroyed and completely alone, I am sitting in the remote safety of my home, clutching a mesh bag of mandarin oranges, wearing a hat with ears. My dog forms a dark puddle on the floor that resembles my shadow.

"What do you want, whore?" I ask with gruff gentleness I am not pulling off very well. She wants whatever she can fit in her mouth, and I loudly resent that, putting an entire mandarin orange into my mouth unpeeled. She lies on her side and falls asleep, as if she's not a dog, but a cardboard cutout of a really hungry one. She just ate.

"Between the holidays" - that's what people call that in the West. I call it a good time to answer the question "How are you?" because nobody asked.

So how am I, and have I become better or worse since 2022?

Well, I am now known under a different name. I like it. I can't understate how meaningful that is. My old name, the one I don't want to use anymore, was not only pronounced wrong by everyone including me, it was connected to a past I didn't want to think about. It was also given to me by people I tried all my life to understand, and only ended up with zero empathy and about as much affection for them.

I worked out with a personal trainer, who demystified exercise for me. I learned to treat it for what it is, a fun activity, and not something I should be doing and am inexplicably bad at. Not to mention, I did a metric fuckton of yoga, until it got cold and icky, of course. Not a lot of guilt about that. But some.

I talked to Kathy and Gerrit, who are actual sex therapists, and they told me that not only my unfiltered candour and untamed humour do not disqualify me from helping people, they can be an asset. We talked for over an hour, and never even broached the subject of sex. We talked about shame a lot, though, and that it's normal, but tricky to navigate. I wonder if they'd adopt me.

I got into training to help people in hospice and the seminars were weirdly uplifting, making me question how we talk about death. I've made a lot of friendships, none of which felt transactional. Maybe that's how it should be.

I got tattoos! They tell my favourite stories, made me stop trying to reconnect with people of my culture, though. Yikes, the homophobia!

My Wall of Wisdom grew. There's now an actual photo of Aurora Borealis, captured in Iceland, and a photo of Jeremy Clarkson in front of a Lamborghini tractor, how many world wonders will I electric tape to drywall next year?

I started therapy again, even though I didn't actually believe I needed it (I did), and I really ended up benefitting from that. I did a lot of drugs, some of which were pharmaceutical, and some caused a paradigm shift in my perception of myself and the world around me. Not Ritalin, though.

Above all, a profound understanding of my own worth is something I am grateful for to the closest people to me. (This isn't a shoutout. You know who you are, you can see your own reflection in me.) Their unwavering honesty and support made me want to stop being a tool and self-actualise as a person with thoughts and feelings I don't need to hide from myself anymore.

But my greatest triumph wasn't that. Oh no, it was getting a COVID and a flu shot at the same time. AND I SURVIVED THAT SHIT!

I've been laid off, as many others in the industry, which led to a longer bout of unemployment than I anticipated. It brought benefits like time and freedom. Ironically, it saved me a lot of money, too, because I didn't have to buy myself something nice for working a 40 hour week without complaining. The rate at which I complain did skyrocket, though. Maybe I should buy myself something for that.

I did a lot of interviews, as myself this time, and not a pale, diluted version of me that's palatable and expected. Whether or not this approach is successful, I don't care, I'm not going back, I've never benefitted from false advertising.

Oh and I met a horse named Baroness who wanted to be friends and then eat my shirt. If that's not facing my fears, I don't know what that is.

My hair looks and feels different because I guess I wasn't taking care of it last year. (My ex may have taught me about skincare, but he didn't know jack about hair. Or healthy relationships! Suck it, Birdie. See you in 2028 when you're less emotionally abusive.)

And I made this website! I even learned CSS. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't that hard. Apparently, it's just about stealing as much as any other programming language. You heard me. I didn't stutter.

Not that I haven't made mistakes. I managed to get a multi cooker to boil over several times, which according to the internet is completely impossible and 100% not a thing. Did I break the Soviet engineered Redmond space multi-cooking machine, that I also bought this year? Stay tuned.

I have more notebooks and pens than a person that doesn't handwrite dick should have. In hindsight, what do you gift a person who's a little bit of a writer? Beans. Coffee beans. Just gift me coffee beans. Unburnt! Preferably fresh. If I don't boil them, I'll grind them and snort them. BEANS!

My perfume collection is going nowhere. At first I was buying every citrusy fresh-floral scent I could acquire, now I've gone vanilla. Will I still smell like dessert next year? Probably.

My dietary restrictions only grew this year. Not only was I born with a weird palate, and sensory difficulties in terms of smell and taste, now I'm allergic to everything you'd eat as a vegan. I'm not joking, now soy, tomato, and avocado are completely off the table because smelling one or either of those things makes my eyes water, and after ingesting even small amounts my throat hurts. Also for some reason I get an allergic reaction (itchy) on the left side of my body and not so much my right, so I'm definitely going to have to see a neurologist about it. MAN, DO I LOOK FORWARD TO THE GASLIGHTING ALREADY. "Just the one side? And how can I help you with that?" Fuck you. You're the doctor, don't make me figure it out.

Another thing I'll have to consult a doctor about in the next year is potentially... autism. Now hear me out, if you're about to go, "It seems like everyone is either ADHD or autistic this year," I don't want to hear it anymore.

The diagnostic criteria have been adjusted to account for high-functioning individuals like me on the spectrum, and if you want to know what THAT took from me, read above about how I'm happy to finally self-actualise as a person now. I'm bleeping almost 32 years old!

When your whole life is about hiding there's something wrong with you and you finally understand what that potentially could be, you have got to stop seeing it as an excuse or a cry for attention.

What would that excuse? And what do I plan on doing with that attention? I just want to understand my unique needs so that I can cater to them. Gently! Instead of thinking I'm lazy, spoiled, bored, and an asshole. Compared to the shit I do, and the Herculean effort it takes to get through a day unmedicated, you probably are all of those things, too.

Also ... honestly, one of my closest friends is autistic AND ADHD, and I've always struggled to figure out what's so atypical about the way she thinks... Well, now I know, she's perfectly autistic, I'm just not really different from her. HOW COOL IS THAT! Also that's so incredibly funny. Once, she asked me to voice coach her. And I was like, "Yah, I'm an expert." And it never occurred to me ... that my obsession ... with monitoring how I talk ... and a certain inflection ... Also I just found out some people can smell cancer and hear electricity just like me and there’s nothing demonic about that. It’s just your typical ASD trait. Now watch me, as I turn back to religion, as I’m no longer convinced I’ll wind up in Jewish Hell.

Anyway, look at me going off on a tangent, like someone with ADHD. [smug and pointed look, staccatoed by a tense silence]

I can't forget that I got back into reading this year, because one of my closest friends (the other one) gave me a book called The First Bad Man, which was so unhinged and disturbing, that I couldn't put it down. So I got a GoodReads account and a bunch of por- So my acquisition of knowledge and wisdom in the year of 2024 will intensify.

I’ve done reading, even in German, if you can believe it, so my psychology studies will obviously flourish. Unless I procrastinate like I did by making adjustments to this website, which as I am told, is nothing shameful.

Continuing to fight that shame in 2024 is my immediate plan. Along with betterment of the world. And amassing funny stories.

So that brings me to you, if you're reading this, you're probably one of my closest friends, and I hope that next year, you and I will face all the challenges together, so that our lives are filled with fun stories. Happy New Year!